


Nothing Special

by arcadian_dream



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian_dream/pseuds/arcadian_dream





	Nothing Special

Ron couldn't concentrate. Gazing intently at a spoonful of soup, he tried – pointlessly, as it happened – to ignore what was happening across the dining room table of Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Scowling through the rising steam, Ron tried to ignore the hushed laughter coming from Remus: seated beside Sirius, he quietly admonished his friend and lover repeatedly; "Not just yet, Padfoot," he would whisper with little, if any, conviction.

"But Moony," Sirius replied in a low growl, "You're so damn sexy - I can't help myself!" Sirius inched his chair closer to Remus'.

Their thighs must have been brushed against one another, Ron knew; Sirius' hand disappeared under the table as Ron saw Remus' lips part, and heard an exhalation of contentment escape alongside the scratchy rhythm of Sirius' fingers and palm over the tweed of trousers.

Dropping his spoon into the bowl with a clatter, Ron pushed back his chair. The screech of its legs on the timber floor recalled Sirius and Remus to reality.

"Ron, where are you off to?" Remus asked, clearing his throat.

"I think I'm going to get going."

"But you only just arrived," Remus continued, gesturing toward Ron's abandoned bowl, "You've barely touched your soup."

"No. I'm … I'm not very hungry. And you two are obviously … _busy_ … I think I'll just go."

"Ron," Sirius said, rising from his own seat to meet Ron on the other side of the table. He placed a hand on the younger boy's forearm, long fingers closing over pale, freckled skin: _"Stay."_

Ron opened his mouth to say something, to protest once again, to declare his intentions to depart and leave Sirius and Remus be: however, when he looked into Sirius' eyes, he found himself unable to do so. It was as though all vestiges of Sirius' beauty, ravaged these past years by his imprisonment, had sought refuge there – and it was, Ron knew, impossible to deny such pleading warmth, and lively hope.

Still silent, Ron continued to stare. Sirius' lips curved into a gentle smile. The moment was suddenly broken by the sound of Remus' approaching footsteps.

"You know, don't you Ron, that we wouldn't ask you to be here if we didn't want you to?" Remus asked

Ron looked back at the cheerful smiles and concern on the faces of his companions, his brow furrowed.

He nodded, though couldn't quite understand what it was that these two men – each individually incredible as they were, and yet something else altogether when they were with one another – could need or want his presence for.

He was, after all, only Ron Weasley: sidekick to Harry Potter, verbal sparring partner to Hermione Granger, the sixth of seven Weasley children and, he often felt, something of a bumbling fool.

Or, rather, he was made to feel so by the strength of others' perceptions.

And so, even though he nodded in agreement with Remus' question, he still failed to understand _why._

"Well," he said, "I suppose I could stay."

"Excellent!" Sirius said. He pulled Ron to his chest in what could have been little more than a friendly hug, and planted a lingering kiss on the boy's forehead. Grinning, Remus ruffled the youngest Weasley boy's hair.

"Come on, then. Seeing as you're staying," Remus said to Ron. He winked at Sirius who released Ron from his embrace before bounding away up the stairs.

"Are you two coming, or what?" he called back between thudding footsteps.

"Not yet," Remus muttered, smiling warmly at Ron, "Well," he said, placing an arm across the boy's broad shoulders, "shall we?"

***

Ron allowed himself to be led up the stairs to what was now Sirius' and Remus' bedroom. Indeed, it was the very room in which he had first stumbled upon them, together. It had, at the time, shocked Ron – but it had not shocked him enough to leave, or to give any noticeable indication that he was privy to the act.

Rather, he had chosen to wait, and watch.

There had been something enthralling about the way they were together; something hypnotic in the way their bodies moved into and against one another.

Ron had, much to his surprise, found himself excited by what he had seen. It was novel, and forbidden, and wholly fascinating.

Engrossed by Sirius' caresses of Remus' tender, scarred skin; by the moans of gratification, and the natural fluidity of the motions that drew them together and apart in perfect rhythm, Ron had become aware of his cock straining against the fly of his jeans.

He had, without thinking about anything at all, apart from the situation that was playing out before his eyes, allowed his fingers to unbutton his jeans. He had begun to stroke his cock through the fabric of his underpants: to tease and tantalise the skin sheathed in cotton; to plunge his hand beneath the coarse hair of his pubic bush and run his fist along the shaft of his prick at an ever-increasing pace as he urged himself toward climax.

He had, lost in the haze of arousal, allowed a passionate gurgle to escape his lips, thereby alerting Remus and Sirius to his presence.

And so he had been discovered – and it had begun.

So it was that he was now, his hand still clasped in Remus', standing in the doorway of that very same room, gazing upon the form of a stripped-bare Sirius, who rubbed himself with one hand, and with the other, led Ron to the bed.

***

"Lie down," Sirius instructed Ron in what was almost a purr. Seated on the end of the bed, Ron complied: he lay back, though his legs remained bent at the knees, the soles of his feet planted on the floor. Behind Sirius, Remus began to undress. He slipped out of his shirt, allowing his pants to fall to the floor with a clatter as the heavy metal belt buckle met the timber boards.

As Ron lay back, he saw Sirius fall to his knees before him. Positioned between Ron's legs, he ran his hands up over Ron's shins and thighs, kneading the thick muscle. He reached up to Ron's waist and freed him of his trousers, pulling them off slowly. Ron's underpants soon received the same treatment and he was left, lying, naked from the waist down. Remus, meanwhile, remained standing behind Sirius: he was now completely naked and, chewing his bottom lip in anticipation, had begun to stroke himself.

Ron swallowed, waiting for Sirius to resume, but he did not. He had gotten up from his kneeling position and was walking to the dresser. He jerked the top drawer open and it complied, though reluctantly: a sighing creak tore through the only sound in the room; that of soft, halting breaths and the occasional rustle of bedclothes as Ron shifted from side-to-side.

Sirius reached into the now open drawer and extracted a pair of women's underpants. He returned to Ron and, on his knees once more, threaded the knickers over Ron's long, lean legs. Hitching the pants up over Ron's thighs, Sirius leaned in close. He pressed his tongue flat against the soft, white flesh of Ron's inner thigh, tracing the line between fabric and skin. He trailed the tip of his tongue lazily across the front of the pant. Saliva tickled Ron through the holes in the lace. Ron's cock responded enthusiastically as Sirius' tongue became more insistent, and he began to suck greedily at the fabric.

As Sirius' mouth continued to stimulate Ron, Remus approached the bed. He climbed on, just above Ron's head, and set about removing the boy's tee shirt, tugging the item up over his head, before dropping it lazily to the floor.

Sirius soon tired of the taste of lace, however, and tore frantically at the knickers: despite his thin and worn bones, the strength of the fabric was no match for the intensity of Sirius' desire. The pants seemed to disintegrate between his fingers.

Ron's cock now freed, Sirius wrapped his lips firmly around the head. Manipulating the tip with his practised tongue, Sirius drew Ron toward climax: he pumped sporadically into Sirius' mouth. His breathing ragged, Ron was moments away from orgasm when Sirius loosened his grip on Ron's cock completely. He got to his feet and, once more, walked to the dresser.

Ron whined and thrust hopelessly into the air.

"Hush," Remus whispered at his head, "And shift up."

Ron did as he was asked, inching toward the head of the bed. The covers bunched underneath his weight with each movement. Remus joined Sirius by the dresser. He returned, much to Ron's surprise, with his wand.

With a flick of his wrist, and a muttered incantation, wispy ropes sprung forth from the tip of Remus' wand, binding Ron's wrists and ankles firmly to the bedposts. He lay, his body stretched and taut, in the centre of the bed. Remus returned his wand to the dresser.

Ron craned his neck upward to see what was keeping his companions. Sirius was occupied with rolling a joint. Remus stood beside him, trailing his tongue languorously over Sirius' collarbone and neck. Ron saw Sirius shudder slightly as Remus began to suck furiously on the flesh. He buried his hand in the mop of Sirius' greying hair and jerked his head back forcefully, exposing Sirius' undulating Adam's apple to the caresses of his lips.

Sirius grunted as Remus released his grip. As they both turned to look upon Ron, writhing impatiently on the bed, Sirius lit the joint. He inhaled deeply, before passing it to Remus. The tip glowed brightly with the force of Remus' breath. He did not, however, exhale as Sirius had done. Rather, he held the smoke in his mouth as he walked to the bed. Leaning over Ron, he kissed him, exhaling into the bound boy's mouth: smoke rolling invisibly over entwined tongues.

Sirius remained by the dresser, the joint held between thumb and forefinger. Remus mounted the bed. One leg on either side of Ron, he manoeuvred his body so that his mouth was positioned over Ron's stiff cock; his arse to pointed toward Ron's face.

Wrapping a hand around the base of Ron's cock, Remus took the head into his mouth. He swirled his tongue slowly around the tip, before lowering his mouth over the shaft. Ron moaned beneath him. He thrust desperately into Remus' mouth, but was denied the pleasure of true abandon by the ropes that held him in place. Sirius, now, came to the bed. Sucking periodically on the cigarette and looping his long fingers around the head of his own cock, he came to a halt at the head of the bed. He pressed the cigarette to Ron's lips: he took a deep drag, the curls of smoke warming him. He emitted a whimper of satisfaction as he exhaled.

Running his free hand through his hair, Sirius butted the cigarette out on the surface of the bedside table, caring nothing for the acrid smell as the iridescent tip burned momentarily against the wood.

Breathing heavily, Sirius ran his hands over the contours of Remus' buttocks. Remus arched his back in response: his back now concave, like that of a cat, as he continued to suck on Ron's cock and eased his arse into and against Sirius' familiar hands.

Sirius ran his hands down the cleft, parting the arse cheeks. He leaned across Ron and, with a knowing smirk, pressed his tongue against the puckered skin of Remus' opening. Remus jerked his arse away and, somewhat taken by surprise, his lips slackened around Ron's shaft. Twisting his body under Remus' weight, and his own bindings, Ron could only watch as Sirius' tongue teased Remus.

"Nnngh," Remus groaned, easing himself back onto Sirius' tongue. He began to pump his hand over his own erection. Sirius' tongue continued its work and, with a series of short, sharp gasps, Remus came, spilling semen over his fingers and Ron's heaving lower stomach.

Ron whined desperately as he felt the warmth of Remus' excitement spread across his belly. Sirius released his hold on Remus' arse cheeks and, with a hearty slap across his bum, moved to the end of the bed. Panting, Remus took Ron's cock into his mouth with a voracity he had not experienced before. Denied the pleasure of climax thus far, Ron bucked frantically into Remus' mouth: sharp teeth grazed the skin with each of Ron's thrusts, causing him to gasp delightedly. Straining against his binds, Ron's stomach and thighs tightened as he shuddered and moaned with the force of his orgasm.

Remus continued to swirl his tongue around the circumference of Ron's cock, sucking hungrily. Breaking contact between his mouth and Ron's cock, Remus held the sticky, pearlescent strands on his tongue. Holding his mouth closed, his head positioned above Ron's groin, Remus gently shifted the softening cock to one side, before allowing the mix of saliva and semen in his mouth to trickle over his lips and between Ron's legs. Collecting the fluid around Ron's arsehole, Remus massaged it into the skin: mingling with sweat, it formed a natural lubricant.

Sirius stood at the foot of the bed, surveying the scene before him. Clasping his hand to the back of Remus' neck he kissed him passionately on the mouth; the two sharing and savouring the taste of Ron on their tongues.

Breaking the kiss, Remus crawled down off of the bed, returning to the dresser. With an exhausted sigh, he muttered, _"Relashio!"_, loosening Ron's ties. Sirius, knees pressed against the end of the mattress, dragged Ron toward him. Hitching Ron's legs up over his shoulders, Sirius pressed the throbbing tip of his cock against Ron's opening. Skin slick with his own sweat and saliva, Sirius slowly pushed the hard, pulsating head into Ron. He winced with the exquisite pain; the sensation of being stretched; the delicious blurring of the distinction between pleasure and pain.

Hands firmly gripping Ron's hips, Sirius thrust gently into him. The tightness of Ron's arsehole squeezed Sirius' cock each time he withdrew and re-entered. He rocked into Ron; the rapidity of his breathing increased with each thrust. Remus, leaning against the dresser, sucked lazily on another joint, gazing at the action through half-closed eyes.

Though spent, Ron began to push back against Sirius, meeting each thrust. The scent of sex that hung in the air, pervading his senses, was entirely intoxicating: Ron felt as if he could do nothing apart from succumb to the desire that seemed to cloak the room.

And so he surrendered.

His throat hoarse, his lips dry and cracked, his stomach caked with the glimmering trail of Remus' semen, Ron surrendered to the intensity of Sirius' bucking; and to the gaze of Remus' clear blue eyes; and to the notion that he, Ronald Weasley, was someone special, after all.


End file.
